


Anything's Righter

by voleuse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-17
Updated: 2004-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>one's everything old being everything new</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything's Righter

**Author's Note:**

> Set after "Graduation Day." Title, summary, and headings adapted from e.e. cumming's _if everything happens that can't be done_.

_i. can't be done_

Every once in a while, on patrol, Xander stops in front of the blackened crater formerly known as Sunnydale High School and just soaks it in.

The rubble is the picture of every Calvin-and-Hobbesesque-blowing-up-the-school fantasy he's ever had.

He thinks he should feel more gleeful, looking at wishes fulfilled, but every time he tries to smile, he remembers the screams, and the smoke, and the blood. The crunch of bones, and the sounds of his classmates dying. Harmony's body slumped on the pavement outside, and dragging Cordy away from it when the coroner's office arrived.

He didn't love anything about the school enough to warrant tears, but Xander stares into the ruins and feels the emptiness call.

_ii. books could plan_

One night, he arrives at his usual staring spot only to find Oz in his place.

It's more unusual than it seems. Xander usually has to do some fancy babbling to sneak away from Buffy or Willow or Giles, since only Buffy's allowed to patrol on her own. Getting to the school usually involves a long-winded excuse, a walk home, and doubling back under the cover of streetlight.

Xander's fully protected with cross, three stakes, and a watergun full of holy water that he's only really told Willow about, because even _he_ feels silly with Nerf's finest slung over his shoulder. He's found, however, that it's easier to run away from a wounded vampire than to stake one.

So finding Oz, almost painfully unarmed with a sole stake clutched loosely in his hand, is a bit of a shock.

To Xander, anyway.

_iii. the stupidest teacher could almost guess_

Oz, however, smiles at Xander without surprise, and for all Xander knows, Oz has been expecting him to show up, what with the wolfy senses and all.

Xander tries not to think about wolfy senses, really, because it brings up all too disturbing questions that he'd rather not spout out at inopportune moments.

All this flashes through his mind in the space of a stuttered, "Hey, Oz."

In response, Oz shifts a few feet to the right, making room for Xander. He looks over his shoulder, waiting, and when Xander takes his place, Oz smiles again. "Hey."

_iv. with a what which around we go who_

They stand there, silent, for several minutes, until Xander panics.

"What are you here for?" It sounds like a cheesy line from a cheap prison movie, and Xander's about to retract it, but Oz chuckles and points to the far left.

"Band room." Points to the right. "My locker, freshman year." Points to the center, a flick of his fingers indicating further back. "The hallway where I held hands with Willow for the first time."

Xander looks at Oz for a moment, then back at the school. "Man," he says. "I hated this place."

"I didn't so much," Oz replies. "But I get it."

_v. the world is a leaf is a tree is a bough_

As time passes, they drift back from the sidewalk to a bench on the lawn. As Oz had been, for most of their educational careers, one year ahead of Xander, they didn't have many shared memories, but their experiences paralleled each other in odd ways.

They move backwards, chronicling classes they had in common in the past year, then throughout the rest of high school.

Coach Adams, the sadistic gym teacher that threatened to make them juggle every year.

Ms. Taylor's sole interesting lecture, comparing Shakespeare's Henry VIII to the historical one, the single class period that every student attended, every year.

Alfred the goldfish, the unofficial mascot of Trigonometry, replaced twice a year by his owner, Mr. Simmons.

The sporadically appearing school newspaper. The vegan kids that Xander used to hang out with during his sophomore year. (Xander doesn't bother to explain that to Oz.) Those twins from Minnesota. The continual disorganization of the jazz marching band.

And back, and back. Oz has lived in Sunnydale almost as long as Xander has, and given the number of times they must have crossed paths, Xander's starting to feel a little surprised they never hung out before.

He thinks he would have enjoyed it.

_vi. forever was never till now_

"There used to be a park." With anyone else, that would have been a lead-in to a story, but with Oz, it's just that. _There used to be a park._

Weirdly, Xander gets exactly what Oz is talking about. He swings his head about, looking for familiar landmarks, then points a thumb over his shoulder. "Over that way, right? It had..." He tries to remember.

"An elephant," Oz fills in. "A purple one."

"Yeah," Xander nods. "I used to play catch with Jesse there."

Oz smiles.

"What about you?" Xander asks.

"I formed a band."

"Dingoes?" Oz nods, and Xander turns that over in his mind. "Cool."

_vii. deep in the high_

They sit in comfortable silence, which is something close to extraordinary for Xander, because silence to him has always been the pinnacle of discomfort. With Oz, though, it's like...normal.

"It's cool, right?" Oz breaks in, as if Xander had dropped his part of the dialogue.

"Yeah, it's cool." Then he twitches. "Wait, what is?"

"Me." Oz spreads his hands slightly. "Being here. This is your place."

Xander shrugs, stares back at the place that almost sucked out his soul. Literally.

"It's your place, too."

_viii. brighter than even the sun_

It's not yet sunrise, but Xander can feel morning coming. It's something in the air, something dragging against his skin, and when Oz tips his head back and sighs, Xander knows Oz can feel it, too.

Xander stands, stretches, and considers whether the walk back home might kill him. Probably not, but he double-checks his weaponry, just in case.

Oz stands, too, holding his stake loosely. "Heading home."

"Probably should. Get some sleep." Xander yawns. "Lots of it."

"Yeah."

Xander looks back at the school. "Do you come here a lot?"

"Not a lot. Some."

Xander smiles, but he couldn't give a reason why. "Tomorrow night?"

"Can't." At Xander's questioning glance, Oz shrugs. "Night before the full moon."

"Oh. Right." He shuffles his feet.

"In three days, though," Oz continues, "maybe."

"Yeah." Xander turns his back, deliberately, on the ruins. "Maybe."

_ix. alive we're alive_

They walk in the same direction for a while, until they reach the intersection where the paths to their houses converge. Xander jerks his head upwards, a guys' version of farewell.

Oz starts off, then stops. Turns back. "Hey, Xander."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you go back?"

"I don't know." It's an unusual sort of question, from Oz, so Xander takes a minute to think about it. "To remember, I guess." He shrugs. "Why do you go?"

Oz half-smiles, looks at the ground, then shrugs in return.

It's answer enough, so Xander nods goodbye again, and turns away.

The sun rises.


End file.
